


Truths and Roses Have Thorns About Them

by FestiveFerret



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Badly Timed Jokes, Coming Out, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Pining, Public Relations, Secrets, Sharing a Bed, Social Media, Steve is a Sarcastic Little Shit and it Gets Him in Trouble Sometimes, lying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-06-25 16:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15644772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: Steve has a secret. And then he makes a poorly-timed joke to a reporter, and suddenly he has two secrets.One: He's in love with his best friend.Two: Despite what the press thinks, they're not actually dating.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [salable_mystic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/salable_mystic/gifts).



> This is for my birthday Prompt Party! You can see posts and fills under my [prompt party](http://festiveferret.tumblr.com/tagged/prompt-party) tag on tumblr. Some of the fills will be tumblr only, so they won't be on ao3! Follow me to see everything :D
> 
> This one is for salable_mystic who sent: "Because I am a sucker for emotional pain with a happy ending and some of the classic tropes, how do you feel about either Hanahaki Disease or the good old secretly-in-love-have-to-pretend-to-be-in-a-relationship-but-think-their-feelings-are-unrequited? Or something vaguely inspired by either/both. "
> 
> You know, I'm such a sucker for hanahaki disease and also for being challenged so I decided to combine them! Hanahaki+fake dating. Hope you like it! <333
> 
> This was almost certainly heavily inspired by [Sixpence In His Shoe by scifigrl47](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11443803/chapters/25647162) which everyone should read because it's amazing!
> 
> Thanks to ashes0909 for beta!
> 
> This will be about six chapters and will update whenever I can. Thanks for reading!

"I was being sarcastic!" Steve said desperately. "It was a joke."

Tony groaned and leaned forward until his forehead hit his arms where they were folded over the edge of the table. Colin vibrated with barely concealed rage in the corner of the room.

"Good joke," Fury quipped dryly. "Very funny."

Steve huffed and sat down hard in the chair next to Tony. "Tony would have found it funny," he muttered to himself.

"I did," Tony whispered from where he was still collapsed on the table. "Time and place though, Rogers."

"Yeah…" Steve sighed. 

Fury opened his mouth to speak, but Colin finally burst. "What's the rule?!" he yelled, making everyone freeze.

"....don'tjokewiththepress," Steve muttered to the table.

"Don't  _ joke with the press,"  _ Colln hissed, rapping his fingers across the surface of his clipboard.  

Steve looked up, undoubtedly blushing, and caught Natasha shifting her phone in a way that suggested that in about twenty minutes the Avengers group chat was going to enjoy a new video titled "Captain America gets his ass handed to him by a 5'8" PR rep."

"Clint gets to joke with the press," Steve said, petulantly. Colin rounded on him, eyes blazing, and Steve shrunk back.

"Yes, because  _ Clint,  _ doesn't have the driest of deadpan deliveries, because  _ Clint  _ is not a national icon, and because  _ Clint doesn't joke about marrying one of his teammates!" _

Steve swallowed heavily. "Right. Sorry."

"Well, it's too late to put it back in the bag," Fury said pragmatically, "so what do we do now?"

"I'll put out a statement saying it was a joke," Steve said quickly, eager to fix what he'd broken.

"No way." Nat shook her head. "People will not be amused about you using a gay relationship as a joke, Steve. That'll backfire."

Colin nodded in agreement. "Yeah. You'll come off as the straight asshole who thinks two guys together is hilarious. People will think you were trying to rag on Tony, which makes you both look bad."

"I'm not though," Steve said.

"Yes, we know it was just a joke and that Tony found it  _ hilarious,  _ but -"

"No. Straight. I'm not the straight guy making a joke because… I'm not straight." Steve blinked around at the gathered team and they all blinked back.

"Really?" Fury asked.

"Really… Do people not know I'm gay?" No one moved. "Okay, whatever. What if I came out publicly at the same time. Said, 'hey I made a joke about one of my teammates which I didn't realize was going to be taken seriously. Tony's my best friend, and we know what spending so much time together looks like. But, actually, I'm single. And on the market. Know any hot guys who are into workaholic, asshole, sarcastic superheroes?' Then surely, the articles are about me coming out instead of the joke?"

Colin pursed his lips then shook his head tightly. "We could… but they'll come for Tony."

"What, why?"

Tony raised his head from the table. "Because they'll want to know what I think of the joke, if I'm bothered that my teammate joked about me being gay too, if I'm uncomfortable with you flirting with me like that, if this is all a cover because we  _ are  _ together and you outed us both before I was ready… etcetera, etcetera."

"They'll force Tony to state openly, on record, what his sexuality is. They'll also assume that either you are dating and hiding it - which means twenty-four-seven pap-watch - or they'll assume Steve has a big old crush and Tony's breaking his heart. Which means tabloid articles up the wahzoo," Natasha added.

Steve groaned and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He was suddenly exhausted. "It was just a joke…" Steve whined.

The others bandied about ideas for how they could approach it - ignore it, press release followed by Steve-and-Tony outings to show no hard feelings, take it question by question and stick to the joke thing....

None of it sounded right.

"Oh no."

They all turned to where Colin was staring at his phone in horror. 

"What?"' Steve asked through grit teeth. How could this get any worse?

"I just got contacted by GLAAD. They want to invite you as special guests to their media awards next month and honour your public support for LGBTQ communities and relationships. They always give out a few honorary awards to celebrities who act as good role models. They're making a big push on some legislature that'll do some wonderful things for the community, and they want your support and media outreach on their side, so they're going to schmooze."

Steve gaped at him. "They don't have to schmooze. We'd support them. Even if we were both straight. Right, Tony?"

Tony smiled at him a little sadly. "It's a bit different, Cap. The message means more if we're acting as representatives instead of allies." He patted Steve on the shoulder.

"What if you just fake it?" Clint asked, and they all turned to stare at him, now. "What? The awards are in a month. Cap doesn't mind coming out. Tony doesn't seem to mind a little libel. All the talk is going to be about the event. So they could pretend, when in public, to be together, give this huge showing of support for the community, and then, after it's over, just quietly fade away. Someday, someone will catch someone else on Tony's arm, ask the question, and he'll say 'we were better as best friends.' Easy."

Steve choked on nothing. That sounded like the least easy thing in the world. Because Steve had a secret, and it wasn't his sexuality. Tony shifted next to him, and Steve turned towards him while the others continued to throw around Clint's suggestion. Tony's shoulders were tense and his eyes were dark. He shuffled in his seat, jaw twitching. "Tony?" Steve asked quietly, and Tony shot him an unreadable look. "Hey guys?" They paused. "Can Tony and I have a minute to talk?"

Fury shot Colin a glance then nodded. "Yup. Talk away. I've got shit to do anyway. We'll meet again in three hours, my office." Fury pushed back from the meeting table and marched out the room, Colin catching in his wake and huffing after, glaring at Steve as he went by. The others followed.

"Tony?" Steve repeated. "I'm so sorry."

Tony turned wide eyes on Steve and immediately rose out of his chair, dropping a hand to Steve's shoulder. "No, no - I'm not mad at you."

Steve must have been radiating terror and discomfort. He'd inadvertently outed his friend, his friend who had very obviously taken great pains never to talk about his sexuality with the media, despite being pressed to multiple times.

"You should be. It was stupid. I should have listened to Colin. It just rolled off my tongue like we were all back here joking at the tower."

"It's fine, Steve." Tony's hand gave Steve's shoulder a little squeeze, and Steve huffed out a shaky sigh. "Really, it's fine. I thought it was funny. It was bad luck, really, that they took it the way they did. Another day, a different mood, it would have just blown right over them."

"You are mad, though," Steve said carefully. It was better to have it out now than let it fester.

"I am. Not at you though. I -" Tony ran a rough hand through his hair, leaning back to half-sit against the table. "I'm mad at them. I kind of thought you were out of bounds. I've been dealing with this shit since I was a kid, but it doesn't seem fair for them to come after you."

"I brought it on myself." They both fell silent, the meeting room humming around them. What on earth could Steve do? It seemed that no matter what he said, the press would attack Tony for it. But it was his mess, his mistake, and he had to clean it up. But how?

"I think we should do it," Tony said out of nowhere.

"Do what?"

"Do what Clint said. Fake it."

_ "Seriously?"  _ Steve's hand stopped halfway to his jaw, on its way to try and rub away some of the tension. "You think we should pretend to be together?"

"Yeah… yeah." Tony brightened. "Look, I think this is one of those instances where the truth is worse than the lie. Or at least, there's no nice way to present the truth. No matter what you say, no matter what I say, it's all going to be blown out of proportion or twisted back at us. But…" Tony waved his phone. "We're trending. And it's mostly supportive. The people en masse will be thrilled, GLAAD will be thrilled… maybe we can show a whole generation of kids that being gay and out doesn't mean you can't be a superhero."

"Wow." Steve sat down. "I mean, I can still make that statement without you, Tony. You don't have to expose yourself to this too. I can still come out, and also say it was a friendly joke, based on an inside joke between us that wasn't funny out of context and I'm sorry. Maybe I can find someone willing to be seen on a few dates with me, and they'll forget all about you."

Tony's jaw tightened. "You don't date, though."

"I know, but I can fake it for this."

"If you're going to fake it anyway, it might as well be with me. We have more impact as a pair and then you don't have to walk back your comment."

"I just don't want to drag you into this, Tony."

"I know you don't." Tony reached out and squeezed Steve's shoulder again. "I'm volunteering."

"Okay." They sat in silence again, even heavier now. Steve squirmed. "So what do we..."?"

"A couple dates, I think. Maybe once or twice a week," Tony said clinically, whipping out his phone and typing furiously. "I'll get JARVIS to watch the social media response and judge the best times to be spotted. The ceremony they want us at is the one in San Francisco, and it'll probably be at least four days there, wining and dining with people, being schmoozed, going to dinners. Then the actually ceremony, we give a little speech, and go home. We'll be spotted out a few times after, but more spread out. The paps will get bored that we're not cheating on each other or having screaming fights in the parking lot, and they'll move on."

"You don't mind not dating anyone for two months?" Steve asked.

"Haven't dated anyone in about two years now, sugarplum. The odds I'll meet my soulmate in the next two months are very low."

Steve blushed. "I mean like… you can't even pick someone up at a party…?"

Tony laughed. "I know, Steve. I get it. I can't sleep with anyone else. It's not a problem." Tony tapped the glass front of the arc reactor. "Haven't been doing that for a while."

"Oh." Steve felt his cheeks heat at the "anyone  _ else"  _ because it wasn't like he and Tony would be sleeping together. People would just… think they were. Steve's hand shook and his chest ached. Shit. This was the worst possible timing. The back of his throat scratched, but Steve cleared it violently, swallowing heavily until he could speak again. "Okay."

"So we're telling Colin that's our decision, right? He can say best what our options are for interviews and stuff. We can pivot the conversation to GLAAD as much as possible, use the opportunity to shine a light on them."

"Yes, that's what we're doing." Steve stood again and led the way to the door, an icy thrill running down his spine as Tony followed close behind him. His phone chimed with a new video upload to the Avengers group chat.

This was  _ such  _ a bad idea.

**

_ "Captain! Captain!" the crowd on the other side of the rope line called.  _

_ Steve waved, grabbed a few programs and signed them. He'd enjoyed himself tonight. The music had been good, the concert had been in support of a good cause, and for the most part, everyone had left him alone. He'd also come alone, which was different but nice. Going out with the other Avengers, Tony especially, had been difficult these days. _

_ "Captain! Where are your teammates tonight?" one reported yelled, as if she could read his mind. _

_ "They're enjoying a well-deserved night off," Steve said, smiling his 'press smile' with more ease than usual. "I heard tell of an Indiana Jones marathon." _

_ The crowd laughed, and Steve worked his way further along, signing, shaking hands. _

_ "Where's Tony Stark?" another voice called. _

_ "Ogling Harrison Ford with the rest of them, I'd imagine," Steve shot back. He smiled at a little girl who waved so hard her mitten fell off. _

_ "You've been seen out with him a lot lately. Is there something you want to tell us?" _

_ Steve snorted. There was something, alright, but nothing he would ever tell them. "Yes, actually. 6.5 million pets end up in shelters every year in the US. 1.5 million are euthanized. Tonight's concert was in support of the ASPCA and everything they do to help the millions of animals in need across the country. You should donate, if you can." _

_ "Why do you always avoid questions about you and Tony?" someone else asked. _

_ "Because I'm awful at keeping secrets." Steve smiled at the reporter who'd asked. "And Tony would be so disappointed if I spilled my big proposal plan and ruined the surprise." _

_ Cameras flashed, and the reporters were yelling even louder now, but Steve had reached the car so he waved with a big smile and slipped inside.  _

_ ** _

The newspaper was sitting on Steve's desk when he slipped into his office, a huge picture of him and Tony headlining the entertainment section. And really, it didn't look that great, or rather, Steve could see why people thought what they did. The picture was taken after a movie premiere Tony had brought Steve to, and they'd snuck out the back door, unsuccessfully trying to avoid all the photographers. Steve was charging ahead towards the car and Tony was pressed up against his side, holding one of his elbows in a death grip. He was looking at the paparazzi and grimacing, but from the angle of the photo, it looked like he was looking at Steve and smiling. 

Steve sat down heavily in his office chair and sighed, picking up the paper. He ran a finger over Tony's face, allowing himself the brief fantasy that Tony really had been looking at him, really had been smiling. 

He didn't read the article - it would hurt too much - but he couldn't bear to throw it away. He tucked the whole thing in the bottom drawer of his filing cabinet. Inevitably, some day, he'd have a bit too much of Thor's Asgardian Mead at a poker night and wander down afterwards to cut the photo out so he could do something stupid with it like hide it under his pillow. 

Colin had been on board with the new plan, immediately scurrying away to sort out where they should go and what they should do and who they should talk to. Tony seemed fine with it - Steve had been keeping a close eye on him to make sure - but Steve felt like absolute shit, and he was sure it showed. It was hard enough being around Tony everyday, fighting side by side, hanging out as teammates, and keeping his secret. But pretending to be Tony's boyfriend? It would be almost impossible.

Even as he thought it, his throat scratched and whined, and for the first time all day, Steve let himself cough. Once he started, he couldn't stop. He coughed and coughed, groaning with relief as he satisfied the urge that had been torturing him all day while simultaneously grimacing at the pain. Finally, with a great, hacking heave, the pressure in his throat released and he spat.

There was a ball of bright orange flower petals, soaked in spit, in his palm.

Steve had a secret, and he had no idea how he was going to make it two months at Tony's side without revealing it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just by the by, there are a lot of charity events mentioned in this fic and they're all made up. If they're similar to real events at all, it's purely random. Except, actually, the GLAAD thing is based on the Media Awards, but I will be making up what it's like, and the award they plan to present to Steve and Tony is fake. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Don't forget to check out [my tumblr](http://festiveferret.tumblr.com) for more prompt party fics!

Steve had thought the serum meant that never again would he get sick, never again excluded or told "no" because his body wasn't up to the task.

But as he stared down at another handful of crumpled orange flower petals, he was eighteen and 5'4" again, being told he couldn't fight for his country alongside his friends. He'd been coughing them up for three weeks now: Hanahaki disease. They'd been warned about it in the army as part of their basic medical training, but he'd only ever known one person who had it. He'd never told anyone who it was he loved, but Steve had his suspicions. He knew what it was like to have a secret like that, even then. The man had wasted away, his breath coming shorter and sharper until it abandoned him completely.

But Steve wasn't supposed to be able to get sick. At first, he'd been too embarrassed to tell anyone, sure that he'd be unable to keep it a secret who it was he was pining after, but now, if he revealed it, he'd destroy this entire plan. It didn't seem to be getting any worse, so maybe the serum was doing him some favours after all. He just had to hold on for two months, keep hiding the petals the way he had been, and then he could tell SHIELD medical, find out if the last seventy years had found a cure. Still, it was frustrating, being weakened after everything he'd gone through to become Captain America, every price he'd paid. Here was this evidence, right in front of him, that he could still get sick after all. And the cause of it...

"Hey, you ready?" 

Steve startled up to see Tony hovering in the doorway, eyes on Steve. Steve shoved his hand in his pocket, crushing the petals in his grip and pushing them down as far as they'd go. "Yup. Ready."

Tony led the way down to the garage where one of his fancy cars waited. If anyone asked, Steve was supposed to pretend it was his - an extravagant gift from Tony. His boyfriend.

And then, of course, there was the other thing Steve was supposed to pretend was his, sliding into the passenger seat and shooting Steve an encouraging smile.

Steve must have looked tense because Tony clapped him on the shoulder. "It's going to be the same as always. We go out for dinner all the time."

Steve shifted in his seat as he pulled out into traffic. The lump in his pocket pressed against his thigh. "I know." The urge to cough welled up again, but Steve was used to holding it back now. It was at its worst around Tony - when Tony looked at him or smiled or laughed or… most things - but Steve had the serum and years of training in body control; he could keep the coughs at bay until he was alone.

Or at least, he  _ could.  _ Before. Now, Tony was going to be laughing and smiling and batting those three-mile-long eyelashes at him  _ on purpose.  _ That might go very, very badly. 

But… it didn't.

They went out of the city to a diner they both had been to before and liked. Steve got a burger, Tony got a panini with so many alterations it was no longer like anything they had on the menu. They talked, they laughed, they discussed strategy. 

It was a little bit different from their previous outings. At one point, Tony -  _ shyly  _ \- reached over the table and took Steve's hand, winding their fingers together next to the ketchup. Steve flicked his eyes across the room and caught three teenagers with their phones pointed in their direction. He hoped his blush came off as cute and not uncomfortable. He lasted twelve minutes with Tony's hand in his before he had to excuse himself to cough what felt like an acre's-worth of flower petals into his hands. He flushed them down the toilet, hoping they wouldn't do any damage to the septic system. 

After their meal, they got dessert to go and walked two blocks to where Steve had parked the fancy car, hand-in-hand, letting a few people get some candid shots in. The paparazzi hadn't found them, but they'd orchestrated that on purpose, far enough out of town that by the time social media revealed where they were, it'd be too late for the hoards to descend.

They ate their dessert with the rest of the team, in front of a hockey game.

"This one's cute," Clint said, holding out his phone. Someone had tweeted the two of them walking down the street.

"I like this one," Tony said. He tilted his screen towards Steve. They were at the diner, holding hands - for the first time, Steve realized Tony had eaten his whole meal with his left hand to make that possible - and Tony was telling some story and Steve was laughing. It was a nice shot, painfully domestic, and Steve felt that familiar itch creep up his throat, digging its claws in. 

"I like it too," Steve managed, and Tony shot him a look, brow furrowed. He hadn't managed to keep his voice steady. "I'm wiped," he added quickly. "Gonna head to bed. Thanks for the date, Tony."

"Night, night, sweetheart." Tony winked while the others laugh. "I'll be sure not to wake you up when I come to bed."

Steve was grateful for the laughter because he barely made it into the hallway before he was spitting out handfuls of orange petals.

**

Steve finished his workout and gathered up his towels - the one he'd used to wipe his brow and the one he'd been spitting flower petals into every time he thought about Tony - and hit the showers. 

Clean, he made his way to the office space Tony had carved out for him next to the home theatre space. Everyone else had a desk in their apartment, besides Bruce who had an entire lab, but Steve needed a way to keep his work separate from home. Somewhere he could go and be focused so that his time off the job really felt off. 

He started with his email and paused when he saw a new one from Colin. 

_ You are cordially invited to the 14th annual Make-A-Wish Foundation Charity Film Festival _ .

Shit.

They really weren't ready for something so public. They often went to these sorts of things together, but not  _ together,  _ and there would definitely be press and questions. They'd only had one public date though, and hardly anyone had even seen them out. Something like this would be going from zero to sixty. 

Steve pushed back his chair without reading any of his other messages and trotted down the stairs to Tony's workshop. 

Tony was humming along to his music and welding something, a shower of orange sparks arching in front of him. Steve thought of flower petals and cleared his throat roughly. He waved, trying to shift through Tony's line of sight, and a moment later, the welding torch clicked off and Tony pushed his mask back, revealing bright eyes and a sheen of sweat across his brow. 

"Hey, boyfriend of mine, what's up?" Tony tossed his tools down and lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe his face. Steve asked his eyes not to drop down a moment too late, and the sight of Tony's abs clenching as he crossed the workshop made Steve choke and splutter, ears heating up. "You alright?"

Steve tapped his throat. "Something went down the wrong way," he rasped. He turned away and coughed violently, catching the petals that filled his mouth and shoving them in his pocket, then shifted back. Tony, luckily, was poking a wireframe hologram and ignoring Steve. "Did you check your email?"

"Not for a bit. I've got J screening while I go into deep work mode. Something good? Did Nat send out another video of Clint pushing Thor in the pool?"

"Nope. Think less funny and more pastry-based appetizers."

"Huh?"

"We're being asked to attend the Make-A-Wish film festival again this year. Only this time they invited 'Captain Rogers and Mr. Stark' instead of 'The Avengers plus guests.'"

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Hmm."

"Colin forwarded the message, said it would be a good opportunity to start spreading the news that we're overtly together. Press will be there, but outside only, and people inside will be the kind to suck up to us instead of squirrel out our secrets." Steve paused. "It seems, um, soon…"

Tony considered him for a minute. "If we do this, we can scrap at least one of the dates, maybe two. This'll be like press money in the bank. And don't worry, it's not like we have to get caught making out in the coat closet -" Steve swallowed heavily "- we're grown men, we don't have to be all over each other like teenagers. A little hand holding, a little flirty smiling… it'll go a long way towards our goal."

"Our goal of lying to everyone," Steve mumbled.

Tony raised an eyebrow and leaned forward over the edge of the table. "You having second thoughts, Rogers?"

"No… no. I mean yes, but I think this is our only option at this point. And it'd be stupid to pass up this opportunity. What I'm regretting,  _ still,  _ is making the joke in the first place."

Tony took off his glasses and rounded the table to stand next to Steve. He gave his arm an encouraging squeeze, and Steve couldn't resist smiling over at him. "I know, bud. It's alright. You're doing a great job. And if you get all stumbly and weird, people will just think you're adorable, not lying. Let me handle the flirty stuff and the press. You just show up and be gorgeous."

Steve's ears started to heat again. "Okay."

He could do that.

**

He was only one hour in, and the tickle in his throat was already almost unbearable. 

True to his word, Tony was handling almost everything, and Steve was just wafting around behind him, smiling and nodding encouragingly when Tony told stories about how they got together and what it was like dating Captain America. 

"No, he really does," Tony said, laughing, and Steve checked back into the conversation, swallowing the pressure in his throat back down.

"I find it hard to believe Captain America doesn't do the dishes."

"No, he  _ does,"  _ Tony corrected. "He just doesn't register the dishwasher at all. Never loads it, never empties it. He washes his own dish and ignores everything else. I'm thinking of putting together a powerpoint to explain it to him."

Steve rolled his eyes, letting some affection leak out. It might have gotten to the point where Steve was holding out on the principle of the matter now. "I just don't get why we can't wash things by hand. If you start the dishwasher then it runs for two hours, but what if you need something in there?"

"Darling," Tony said, the petname making Steve blush instantly, "we have at least four of everything you could possibly need." Tony laughed warmly when the others grinned at their antics, then tugged on Steve's waist, drawing him close. He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Steve's cheek. It was hardly anything beyond platonic, something Steve had seen him do with Pepper and Rhodey before, but he was so close and his lips were warm and soft and he smelled like expensive scotch and he'd called Steve  _ darling _ , and suddenly Steve's throat  _ exploded  _ with pain. 

"Excuse me," he managed to croak out, tearing himself out of Tony's grip and bolting for the bathroom. Steve stumbled through the door and hunched over the trash can just in time for a volley of flower petals to heave up out of his lungs. They burned his throat as they clawed their way free, staining the black garbage bag with orange. When the worst of the wave was over, Steve straightened up and staggered to the tap, wanting to rinse the flowery perfume from his mouth, but another smaller wave hit, and he pressed his handkerchief over his mouth and coughed.

"Steve!" The door banged open, and Steve's heart stopped. He should have locked it; of course, Tony came after him. "Seriously? One cheek kiss and you have to run to the bathroom to throw up?" His voice was still light. "Surely, I don't smell that bad. I - Steve?" Tony pressed closer and Steve looked up into the mirror, catching the moment when Tony's expression shifted from wry amusement to concern. Steve could see his own face, pale and wan, his eyes wet with the ferocity of his coughing. "Were you actually throwing up? What's wrong?"

Steve shook his head and straightened up, trying to move past Tony towards the door. "Nothing."

"Steve -! Come on -" Tony reached out and caught his sleeve. "What are -  _ Is that blood?"  _

Steve followed Tony's gaze to the balled up fabric in his hands, the orange peeking through the cream fabric and looking dark and rusty. "No! I'm not - Tony!"

Tony had reached out and snatched at the handkerchief, tugging hard enough that it opened and Steve's handful of petals fell out and fluttered to the floor. "I -" Tony stared at them, completely frozen.

"I can explain," Steve said hurriedly, even though he really couldn't.

"You don't need to," Tony said shakily, and Steve was - temporarily - stupidly relieved. But then, "You have  _ hanahaki?" _ Tony all but screeched. "What the fuck, dude?"

"I know, I know. I should have told you, but -" 

"Told me? Does  _ anyone _ know? Does Fury know? Did Colin let you do this ridiculous charade with I-don't-love-my-fake-partner spewing out of your mouth every ten minutes?"

"What? No - Fury doesn't know. I know I should have told him, but -"

"Shit, we've already confirmed it. What are we going to do?"

"What?"

Tony brandished the handkerchief at him like a weapon. "Steve, don't you get it? If anyone finds out you have hanahaki disease, they'll know we're not the happy couple in love that we're supposed to be! At best, they'll think it's a loveless relationship, and at worst, they'll figure out we're lying. Either way, we'll be the topic of gossip and suspicion, and we're supposed to be making this easier not harder."

A flush of fear and humiliation flooded Steve's veins, and he scrubbed a hand over his face to hide his expression. "I'm sorry," he murmured. 

"Shit, this is so fucked up.  _ Shit." _

"Tony, don't panic. We'll figure this out."

_ "That's not why I'm panicking!"  _ Tony snapped then he took a deep breath. "When did it start? If it's only been a day or two we can -"

"Three and a half weeks ago."

All the blood drained out of Tony's face, and his mouth fell open. He took two stuttering steps towards Steve. "Three weeks… You talked to medical, right? If you're still -" Tony looked down at the handkerchief in his hands and his posture crumpled, deflated. Pain flickered across his face. "Steve, how are you still standing?"

Steve shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know… It never gets worse. I just cough a lot of flower petals -"  _ whenever you're around  _ "- but I'm not having any trouble breathing. I looked it up - it killed men during the war - and there's still no cure."

"No cure, but there are treatments."

"Only for the secondary symptoms, and I don't have any. I'm not sick, the way most people seem to get. I'm just…" Steve gestured pathetically at the handkerchief.

Tony let out a tense breath. "Okay. Okay that's good. I mean it's not good, but -" He sighed. "It is good."

"You think we should tell Fury?"

Tony looked at him consideringly, fiddling with the edge of the fabric he still held. "Do you?"

"Don't you?"

"Steve."

Steve groaned, leaning back against the bathroom door. "I was keeping it a secret because - I -" He clenched his fists, trying to put the words in some sort of order. "This wasn't supposed to happen anymore. I could ruin all of this just because I couldn't - couldn't keep my  _ feelings under control -"  _ Tony's hand landed on his arm softly. 

"Steve. It's okay. I get it." Tony shuffled. "No chance you'll tell me who -?"

"No. Sorry." He shook his head. "I can't."

"That's okay." Tony sighed. "Okay, I think we can do this."

"Do what?"

"Keep it a secret."

"Really?" Steve gaped at Tony. That was the last thing he expected him to say.

Tony waved a finger in his face. "You have to talk to a doctor, though. Maybe Doctor Strange, actually. Since it doesn't seem to be progressing normally. Plus he'll keep it quiet if we ask."

"You don't think it's stupid to try and hide it?"

"Oh, it's definitely stupid, but when has that ever stopped us? If Colin finds out, he's going to flip his already very precarious lid. And if Fury finds out, he's going to pull you from everything and lock you in a closet in medical for sixteen years. They're also going to make you tell them who it is." Tony shot him an overly scrutinizing look. 

"I don't want any of that."

"Alright, then we keep this to ourselves until after the awards show.  _ Unless  _ your symptoms get worse." Tony poked him in the chest. "If you get sicker, I'm pulling the plug on this, Rogers."

"Okay, okay. Deal." He'd been fine for almost a month. He couldn't see it getting any worse at this point. He'd just… cough up flower petals for the rest of his life. It wasn't like he was going to fall out of love with Tony. He sighed, and Tony squeezed his arm again.

"I've got you."

"Thank you." 

"Not really your month, is it?" Tony shot him a cheeky smile, and Steve couldn't help but smile back. 

"Not really."

Tony held out a hand, and Steve took it. He let himself be pulled away from the door so Tony could lead them out, but the door swung in before Tony could reach for the handle and they both stumbled back. A man stood in the doorway, looking startled. He dropped his eyes to their hands, raked up over their bodies then raised an eyebrow and sighed, exasperated.

He pushed past them, even as Steve's eartips ignited with heat. Tony dragged him out, bursting into laughter as soon as they reached the hallway. "He thought we were -"

"I know."

"In the bathroom."

"I get it, Tony."

_ "So naughty." _

And Steve couldn't help laughing too. Even as his throat started to burn again, he tugged Tony closer to him and leaned into the heat he radiated. He was so, so screwed, he might as well enjoy himself on the way down.  


	3. Chapter 3

"We're going to Strange," Tony insisted, grabbing Steve's jacket out of the closet and tossing it to him.

Steve glared down at the lapful of petals he'd just hacked up when Tony had entered his apartment that morning. "It's not hurting me."

"I really don't care, Steve. You're barfing the Brooklyn Botanical Garden all over your apartment. It's not normal. I know there's no chance I'll get you to a regular doctor, so we'll start with Strange. Hanahaki is supposed to be kinda mystical, right?"

Steve sighed and stood. He threw the petals in his kitchen compost bin which was fast looking like it belonged in a florist's shop. "Fine." This was not an argument Steve was going to win, and, honestly, now that someone else knew, he was kind of relieved to have Tony tell him what to do. He wished he'd thought of going to Strange earlier. He would have kept Steve's secret; the concept of doctor-patient confidentiality seemed to have stayed with him even after his transformation to the sorcerer supreme. 

Steve shrugged into the jacket and followed Tony into the elevator, resisting the urge to cough again. He'd never heard of symptoms getting worse around the person who had - uh -  _ caused  _ it, but there was no denying that it was getting harder and harder to hold back his floral expulsions whenever Tony was near. His heart would flutter, stomach would flip, and an entire garden centre would threaten to crawl up the back of his throat. 

It was getting embarrassing.

Speaking of embarrassing, it occurred to Steve for the first time on their drive over, that Strange might be able to tell who it was he - uh - who was causing Steve's issue. And Tony would be right there with him. What if he looked at him funny and Tony knew? This fake relationship thing was hard enough with Steve trying to hide his painful feelings, add in Tony knowing about them? He'd be far too mortified to pretend to hold his hand or smile adoringly at him.

Pretend…

Happy was waiting for them, and Tony gave him the address for the Sanctorum, not giving him a reason why. Happy, being an excellent employee, didn't ask, but Steve caught his curious glance flicking up into the rearview mirror. 

Strange himself opened the door and ushered them in like he'd been expecting them. He probably had. "What seems to be the matter?" he asked, in a very doctorly way.

"I -" Steve started, but Tony steamrolled over him.

"Steve here has hanahaki disease, only he's had it for over three weeks and he's not one lung down, spewing blood in a hospital bed. What's up with that?"

Steve felt his cheeks heat without his permission, and he crossed his arms over his chest in lieu of having the shield to hide behind. Strange turned a raised eyebrow on him, and Steve shrugged then nodded. 

"And you're here because…?"

"We have a little discretion issue," Tony said pointedly. "And you went to both medical school and Hogwarts so you seemed like the best person to ask for quiet help."

Strange considered them for a moment longer then shrugged. "Alright." The cape he was wearing floated off his shoulders and darted into the other room, Strange wandering in after it.

Steve shot a look to Tony who actually appeared stunned - not a common look for him - then followed after. The cape pulled up a chair and gestured Steve into it. Strange sat in a chair opposite, pushed close so its left arm was nearly touching Steve's right. Steve leaned back against the headrest as Strange pressed a palm flat over his chest. He closed his eyes and Steve had the distinct impression of being dropped in a tub of ice water. He gasped, hands snapping to the arms of the chair. Tony took an aborted step towards him, and Steve caught and held his gaze.

He couldn't tell what Strange was doing, but it was uncomfortable. It only lasted a few moments, thankfully, and then Strange was pulling back, giving Steve a considering look. Pain burned up the back of Steve's throat, and he coughed hard, filling his lap with petals, spraying them over the carpet. They fluttered down around his feet. 

"You have hanahaki," Strange said dully.

"No shit, Sherlock." Tony rolled his eyes. "We knew that."

Strange didn't spare him a glance, his eyes still fixed all too shrewdly on Steve who felt himself blushing even deeper. He tried to kick the petals at his feet into an easy-to-clean pile. "The serum seems to be healing any damage done to your lungs," Strange went on. "Hanahaki is a mystical disease. Usually, the stronger you feel for someone, the worse the little… botanical issue is. But the damage to your lungs is a secondary result of coughing up flower petals for days, weeks. Most people don't last out a month. But you're not most people," Strange mused. "It seems like you'll be fine. Your lungs will constantly heal. I see no reason why the serum wouldn't be able to keep up with the damage."

"Oh, thank god," Tony muttered under his breath.

"I recommend you tell them," Strange said carefully, straight to Steve.

Steve shook his head. "No. I can't." He wasn't sure if Strange knew or not, but there was something unusual about the light in his eyes. 

"It gets worse the worse you feel about it. Telling the object of the patient's affection usually gains them a few weeks. Even without the secondary symptoms, it would slow down the flower production. Also, if it continues to worsen, you might hit a point where the serum can't keep up with the damage anymore."

Steve coughed again, and a single petal spat out onto Strange's knee. A corner of the cape lifted and brushed it away, somehow managing to look indignant. "Sorry."

"Obviously, it's up to you. But my recommendation is that you tell the person."

"Alright." Steve's eyes dropped to his lap. "I'll take it under advisement."

"Is that all you need?" Strange finally turned back to Tony. "Only, I'm very busy and important and you only seem to come here when you want something."

"Would you rather I stop by for tea and cucumber sandwiches some time?" Tony asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Certainly not." Strange brushed out of the room with a swoop of his cape.

"Well." Tony looked after him. "He's some kind of something, isn't he?"

Steve sighed and dropped his head in his hands. Tony's hand landed on his knee.

"You okay, bud?" he asked, oddly close. "That was good news, right?"

"Yeah…" Steve cleared his throat and stood, shaking off Tony's hand before it could set off another coughing fit. "Yeah… I guess part of me was hoping he might have some kind of cure or something."

"Ah." Tony's hand found his shoulder instead, squeezed then released it. "Sorry."

"I should be grateful, though, that it's not killing me."

"Well, I certainly am." Tony watched him with a bright intensity in his eyes. "You can tell me, you know. Who it is. Contrary to popular belief, I can keep a secret."

Steve shook his head slowly, eyes dropping back down to the floor. He couldn't. He'd been here before, he knew how this went. He'd tell Tony, and Tony would flip out. All of their friendship would mean nothing. Tony would push him out of his life, and Steve would be left alone. Again. He couldn't risk it. He needed Tony now, like oxygen.

He coughed again. _ Ironic… _

"I'm sorry. I really can't tell you, Tony. It's not that I don't trust you. I know you can keep a secret. That's not why. It's - I don't want to feel this way…" His voice creaked and faded away.

"Okay, okay. It's alright. I get it. Say it out loud and it becomes true." Tony reached out and gave his elbow a squeeze, hand lingering. "For what's it worth, I'm really sorry. I hate to see you like this."

Steve swallowed back grief and pain and an entire rosebush's worth of petals. "It means a lot," he managed. "Thank you."

**

Their next two dates were as straightforward as the first. 

They went to another diner then a walk in the park. Tony held his hand for a while, but other than that it was just like they used to be. They talked and laughed and joked, and most of the time, Steve was able to forget about this big ridiculous charade.

In some ways, it actually made it easier. Steve could pass off his adoring little glances, his soft sighs and tiny squeaks as part of the game; he was just doing a good job acting like he was in love with Tony. If he slipped and let out a bit of what he'd been holding back for months now, he had a good excuse at least. So that made it easier, for all the ways it was harder too. It was harder because now he was getting those little looks, little smiles, shot back his way. It was harder because every time he did, his throat and lungs burned with the desperate need to cough.

But as the dates went on, that got easier too. The burning need to hack and choke became so much a regular part of Steve's life that it faded into the background, paled in comparison to the fluttering in his heart whenever Tony was near. 

It didn't take long for the press to catch on. Photographers were suddenly getting pictures of Captain America and Iron Man with their arms wrapped around one another, or sharing the pocket of Steve's jacket, or stealing fries from the other's plate. That was all it took for the shots to go from totally uninteresting to front cover pull with headlines about superheroes in love. 

Steve found the covers upsetting and tantalizing at the same time. Somehow, the photographic evidence of their relationship made it seem so possible, like a teenager cutting out their favourite pop star's face and gluing it over a picture of them with their best friend. He hoarded them at the back of his closet whenever one of the other Avengers bought him a copy to tease him. 

Photographers moved on to full-on reporters. They started meeting the pair outside the diners and cafes where they met for their "dates" by the third one.

"So when's the wedding?" one of them called, and Steve swallowed back a mouthful of petals. 

Tony laughed and fluttered his eyelashes up at Steve. "He still hasn't asked me yet."

It gave Steve a moment to clear his throat. He reached out boldly and wrapped his arm around Tony's waist, drawing him in. "Well… that was a joke, but it's not off the table. We'll see." He pressed a quick kiss to the end of Tony's nose, stomach flip-flopping at how close they were, but Tony just laughed and let himself be held.

It was so easy - too easy. All of this was too easy to fake. 

**

"What should we do for our next date?" Tony asked, shoving a piece of toast in his mouth as soon as the words were out.

Steve opened and closed his mouth, then opened it again and "...Bowling?" stumbled out.

Tony stared for a heartbeat then broke into laughter, an arm coming up to wrap around his sides.  _ "Bowling?" _

Steve's cheeks heated. "I don't know… people do it on TV. I don't date much, okay? I thought fake dating was supposed to be easier because we don't actually have to -" He cut off with a shrug.

"What? Go somewhere we actually want to go?"

"I guess…"

"Oh my god, Rogers. You actually do want to go bowling, don't you?"

Steve shrugged again, more defensively this time. "I don't know. I've never been." He sighed. "It looks kind of fun I guess."

Tony grinned with obvious delight. "Oh, we are absolutely going, now. You haven't lived till you've worn someone else's shoes, eaten overcooked fries, and listened to Don't Stop Believing on repeat on the jukebox for two hours. We'll get you the little kitten themed bumpers so you don't get a gutterball and cry."

"Tony -"

"It'll be amazing."

Steve smiled fondly as Tony plowed on.

"Maybe there'll be a karaoke night or something, I'll have JARVIS - J look for a place we can have the maximum bowling experience."

"Yes, sir," JARVIS offered. "There appears to be a bowling alley called Pinned Down in Midtown that would suit your needs nicely, sir."

"Awesome. Okay. Middle school date, here we come. You're going to love it, Cap. The  _ press  _ is going to love it."

Steve's heart plummeted into his shoes, and his throat burned painfully with a growing lump. It was so easy to forget that this was all fake, all for the press, until his illness flared up again and then it was all too easy to remember. But Tony was already walking out of the room, another piece of toast crammed into his mouth beside the first he was still chewing, his eyes on his tablet. Steve looked down at his plate and realized it had been his own toast that Tony had eaten. When that did nothing more than make his chest throb with a half-cough that landed a few petals on his crumb-covered plate, he dropped his face into his hands with a whine. He had it  _ so bad.  _

**

True to his word, Tony had everything set up for their bowling date, though, thankfully, he didn't get the kitten-themed bumpers. After his fifth gutter ball, however, Steve was starting to covet them a little, eyeing the birthday party a few lanes over where they were making strike after strike with more than a little jealousy. 

Tony's laughter intensified while Steve glared at him, a bowling ball clutched awkward in his hands. "Oh my god, Cap," Tony wheezed. "You throw things for a living and you can't figure out bowling." He descended into snorting again.

"You can't ricochet it off anything…" Steve muttered to himself, eying the straight lane and the still-standing pins at the end. He was a shark at pool. He should have had Tony take him somewhere to play pool.

Tony appeared behind him, and Steve coughed heavily into his sleeve, wiping the evidence onto his undershirt then covering it over again. "You know how to do this, Steve," Tony breathed against the back of his neck. His hand landed on Steve's wrist. "It's about curves, not angles."

Steve swallowed heavily, focusing on the lane in front of him instead of the heat Tony seared up his side. Tony pointed to the floor. "Try aiming for the arrows there, one of the ones off to the side, and as you let it go, give it some spin. You don't want it to go straight down the middle. You want it to hook around and plow into the pins from the side."

Steve nodded, and Tony patted his shoulder then stepped back. Steve could feel him only a few feet behind him, and he walked up to the edge of the lane just to give himself space to breathe. He lifted the ball up to his chest like he'd seen the other bowlers do and focused on lining up his shot. Arrows… curves not angles…

With a satisfying rumble, Steve's ball sped down the lane then crashed into the pins, sending them flying into each other and leaving only two standing. 

"Hey!" Tony exclaimed. "Look at that. No bumpers needed after all." 

Steve shot him a look which broke into laughter when he saw the self-satisfied smirk on Tony's face. Steve's eyes flicked up over Tony's shoulder at a familiar movement, and he saw that a group of university students waiting for their food by the counter were watching the pair. One was filming. Steve held his breath, reached out, and grabbed Tony around the waist. He hauled him in and pressed his lips to the corner where his lips met his cheek - not a full kiss, but from the angle of the kids' cameras, it would look like one.

Tony stayed stiff in his arms, not pulling away, but not giving into it, and Steve released him after a heartbeat. Tony blinked at him for a moment then smiled, shaking his head with amusement. "If you think laying one on me is going to make me want to let you win, you're sorely mistaken, Rogers." Tony's eyes flickered over to where the students were as he walked back to the seats by the scorekeeper screen. He sat down and threw his legs up on the ball dispenser, arms crossed. "You going for the spare, or what?"

Tony won, but not by nearly as much as Steve had expected. Once he got the hang of it, his super soldier skills kicked in and he started making strikes and spares more often than not. But Tony was good - incredibly good - and by the end of the game, Steve had a very respectable score for a beginner, but Tony's score was better suited to someone who had their name on the back of a jacket.

"When'd you learn to bowl?" Steve asked, stuffing the last of his fries in his mouth as they walked back out to the street, cameras flashing towards them. He ignored them.

Tony shrugged. "We went a lot in college. Everyone did. It was cheap and fun. I just -" he shrugged again "- it makes sense to me."

"I really enjoyed it," Steve said, sudden shyness making him duck his head. But when he looked back up, Tony was smiling at him.

"Me too. Ice cream?"

They got ice cream and walked around for a while, Tony making sure to ask Steve to hold his cone while he retied his shoe, giving the paps a chance to catch Steve with a cone in each hand, hastily licking ice cream off Tony's before it dripped. 

Back at the tower, Tony shifted out of Steve's orbit again, and Steve mourned the loss, not realizing how close they'd been walking, how low they'd been talking, until Tony put a normal amount of space between them once more. Steve cleared his throat, but it hit him a moment later that Tony knew now, so there was no need to hide it. He let himself cough up everything that had tortured him throughout the night, stuffing handfuls of petals in his pockets to throw out later. When he looked up again, Tony was staring at him, eyes pinched with unhappiness, but he looked away again sharply.

The elevator went right up to the penthouse, and Steve followed Tony to his door expecting to watch a movie or play cards or something, before realizing how late it was. "Actually… I should go to bed," he said. "SHIELD meeting tomorrow, early."

"Right." Tony paused with his hand on the doorknob and turned back towards Steve. "I had a good time, thanks for the suggestion."

"Yeah. Thanks for showing me how to bowl. And for the ice cream." Gravity wobbled, and they swayed towards each other for a moment. Steve's eyes snapped down to Tony's mouth, but that made another wave of petals press at the back of Steve's throat, and he choked. 

Tony made an unhappy noise, and Steve looked back up to see something dark crackle to life in his eyes. His previously enticing mouth pressed into a sharp line, and he leaned away from Steve again. "Night." He turned the knob, slipped inside and shut the door behind him before Steve had a chance to say goodnight. 

Steve stared at the closed door, unsure what had just happened but hyper-aware of the fact that he'd almost forgotten himself and kissed Tony without any reporters around. He choked, spat. A spray of orange flower petals missed his hand and fluttered down over Tony's stoop like some mockery of a present. A bouquet left for him on his doorstep. Steve ground them into pulp with his heel, turned and marched back to his room, staunchly ignoring the rising pain in his throat. 


	4. Chapter 4

The next several weeks went by in a blur of Assembles and work with SHIELD. Steve and Tony were both so busy, they barely had time for their fake relationship. They appeared outside together often enough that the papers had pictures to publish, but most of the time they were in full Avengers gear and someone was spraying toxic sand or summoning an army of evil robots just off-camera.

It wasn't until Steve was on the plane next to Tony that he really processed that he was on leave from the team, and that he and Tony had three whole days together in San Francisco for the awards ceremony.

And they would have to ramp their pretending back up to full power.

Pepper was using SI's main jet, so they'd taken another one, still private, still amazing, but smaller and without a lot of the "fluff" that Tony had decorated the other one with. Even on a private jet, a flight was a flight, and after getting the shield and Iron Man through the airport security, loading up, taxiing out only to be told it was too foggy to fly, waiting an hour, and taxiing out again to finally take off, then flying for five hours, Steve was wrecked.

Tony had been so busy finishing up work that they barely talked on the plane, and Steve was feeling more and more nervous about the award ceremony by the time they shoved into a car and took off for the hotel.

There were only three things they would have to attend as a couple: a small lunch with the president of the charity, last year's winners of the award, and a few other VIPs; a cocktail reception the night before; and the actual, broadcast, awards ceremony. But they would have to be a completely convincing couple the entire time, and so far, Tony had barely said two words to Steve all day.

Tired, sore, and with that ruffed up and dirty feeling that was inevitable after a plane ride, Steve stumbled after Tony into the hotel. The woman behind the counter brightened several hundred watts when she caught sight of them. "Welcome!" she said, practically bouncing. "Your room is all ready to go, Mr. Stark, Captain."

Steve blinked at her for a moment before it sunk in. The organization had arranged the hotel, sending them an email saying it was all taken care of, and they hadn't given it another thought. But they had no reason to book them more than one room. They were here as a couple.

Steve shot what he hoped was a covert look at Tony and could tell instantly that Tony was going through the same realization.

"Lovely," Tony said, tightly.

The young woman handed them a card with two room keys tucked in it and a room number written in the corner. "If there's anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable, just let me know." She beamed. "We're all big fans here," she tacked on breathlessly, cheeks pinking as she shook her head in a tiny self-reprimand.

Tony kindly reached out to shake her hand, and Steve tried to smile. Tony winked. "Always lovely to meet a fan. Now, I'd better get this big lug up and into bed before he passes out completely. He's a sucker for jet lag."

She smiled sympathetically in Steve's direction and nodded emphatically.

In the elevator, Tony scowled down at the single room number. "Sorry," he said, "I didn't even think of that."

"It's okay." At least Tony knew his floral secret so he wouldn't have to share a room and hide the petals at the same time. That would have been almost impossible. He tried to bring the mood back up. "I don't snore." He shot Tony a grin.

But Tony didn't smile back. "Oh no, don't worry about it. I'll book another room. You can have this one." He handed the keycards over.

"But how? If you ask the hotel to book a separate room they'll -" Steve cut off suddenly, glancing up at the security camera in the corner. They didn't usually have audio, but sometimes they did.

Tony followed his gaze and fell silent as well. The elevator doors opened, and Steve led the way down the hall, counting off the rooms. When they reached theirs - his - he slid the card in and opened the door.

It was a lavish suite, complete with a sitting room and kitchenette. There was only one bed, but it was the largest bed Steve had ever seen in his life, piled high with pillows. On the dresser by the TV sat a bottle of champagne and a box of chocolates next to a note from the staff welcoming them to San Francisco and thanking them for the Avengers. Steve smiled down at the note while Tony dumped his bags in the corner.

"I was saying I can have Pepper book me a new room through a proxy. They won't know it's for me."

"How will you get the keycard?"

Tony shot him a look then waved his phone. "Do you really think _I_ need a keycard? I'll have a  courier check in and push the key under the door then I'll let myself in."

Steve's throat burned, and he choked down a petal-laden cough. That was an awful lot of effort to avoid sharing a room with Steve. Why was it such a big deal anyway? He and Tony were friends, and Steve had shared small spaces with all the Avengers at one time or another. But suddenly, Tony seemed inclined to keep his distance.

Tony looked up from where he was rustling around in his bag. "Do you mind if I take a shower? It'll take a few hours to get the hotel thing sorted, and it's already late. If I wait, I'll be all wet when I'm trying to sleep."

Steve coughed violently and sprayed a handful of petals all over the dresser, the champagne, the chocolates and the corner of the TV.

Tony considered him for a moment. "Might want to hold off on housekeeping until we're done here."

Steve nodded morosely, digging around until he found the garbage bin, and began to collect the petals one by one. "Of course you can take a shower, Tony. You can do whatever you like. Technically, this is your room too, and if you have to stay, I don't mind."

Tony shifted from foot to foot in Steve's peripheral vision. "Right. Well. Thanks. I'll just make a few calls and then clean up."

"Actually," Steve looked up, realizing that if he took a shower in the same stall Tony had just  been naked in, he'd probably clog the drain with orange petals two seconds in. "Do you mind if I go first? I'll be quick while you make your calls."

"Of course, sure, whatever," Tony waved him towards the bathroom, taking three cell phones and a tablet out of his bag, and Steve grabbed a change of clothes and fled for the shower.

He let himself cough freely for a while, spitting mouthfuls of petals into the toilet while the water heated. Under the hot spray, Steve closed his eyes and breathed for a moment. He felt like he hadn't had a second to himself since their bowling date, and now that he did, everything was settling heavily on his shoulders. It hurt more than it should that Tony would go through so much trouble to get a second room when they could share, and it wasn't just because the idea of sharing space with Tony all evening and then sharing a bed with him all night was lung-achingly tantalizing.

They'd been such good friends before all this started, best friends, and it felt more and more like this stupid charade was eroding that friendship. Tony's joking kisses had faded, his shoulders carried more and more tension in them, and he'd stopped calling Steve "my boyfriend," or equally cough-inducing pet names. Their dates had been fun at first - for all they were terrifying too - but the closer they got to this award, the farther away Tony pulled. A month ago, Tony would have laughed off the shared room, crawled in next to Steve, and kept him up talking until three in the morning. But now, he'd been planning his escape before they were even in the elevator.

Steve sighed, spat a few petals down the drain, then worked shampoo through his hair as quickly as he could. The hot steam-pressure of the bathroom was making him feel short of breath which inevitably reminded him of how his disease could turn if the serum stopped holding it off.

He dressed in the bathroom, hating the way the clothes stuck to his damp skin but knowing he wouldn't be able to resist coughing with Tony's eyes skating over his bare back. Tony was on the balcony when Steve came out, phone pressed to his ear. Steve towelled off his hair and sat on the edge of the bed with the booklet the hotel had left of places they could visit in town. He wanted to see the water, touch the ocean that had kept Tony on the west coast for so much of his life. Despite being in California for so long, Tony said he hadn't spent much time in San Francisco at all; Steve had been excited to explore it together, but now that didn't seem to be an option, not if Tony kept pulling away from him.

The glass door slid open, and Tony leaned on the frame. "They got me a room, but the courier won't be able to make the hand off for another few hours. How's the water pressure?"

Steve tried to smile like nothing was wrong. "It's lovely. Go ahead."

"Thanks."

While Tony showered, Steve unpacked then lay flat on his back on the bed, bare toes rubbing on the soft carpet. He must have dropped off for a bit because the next thing he knew, the TV was playing the news quietly and Tony was sitting shirtless on the bed next to him, hair wet and tousled, scrolling through something on his tablet.

Steve must have made a noise because Tony looked up at him then smiled. "Nice nap?"

"I didn't mean to." Steve smacked his cottony tongue and blinked his eyes back into focus. The familiar burn tickled the back of his throat but he swallowed it down. He'd coughed enough today, after holding back for so long on the plane, that even his serum-protected throat was sore.

"You can change the channel if you want."

"Hmm." It was dark out, too late to go explore the neighbourhood, and way past Steve's usual bedtime. Tony was used to timezone travel, and apparently all he had to do was reset his clocks and he was fine, but Steve was feeling decidedly off-whack by the change.

"You okay?" Tony was really looking at him for the first time in a while, and Steve's heart skipped a few beats, flooding his lungs with flowers.

"Just feeling a bit off from the plane ride."

"We skipped dinner, you know. And you need like seven million calories to run, so that might be why."

Steve sat up and his stomach rumbled loudly. "Oh wow, you're right. I completely forgot." And now he'd have to go find somewhere to get food. He reached for his socks with a groan, but Tony snorted and threw the remote at his back,  painfully playful, like they used to be.

"Don't be an idiot. We'll order room service."

"Isn't that expensive?" Steve said before he really processed what he was saying.

Tony didn't dignify that with an answer. He padded across the room, his lithe, muscular chest on full display, dipping the room in soft blue light. He dug a booklet out of the drawer under the phone. His pants were riding low on his hips and Steve couldn't resist tracing their shape with his eyes as Tony flipped through the menu. "What do you want?" Tony held out the menu, but leaning forward to grab it seemed like a lot of work. Steve applied his best puppy dog eyes, and Tony shook his head affectionately and picked up the phone.

"Two roast beef sandwiches with salad. Ranch on one, balsamic on the other, plate of fries on the side, and something with a truly horrific number of calories for dessert." Tony picked up the bottle of champagne while he talked and read the label. He hung up and worked the cork out then poured two glasses. He joined Steve on the bed again and handed one over. "To us," he said, but there was something missing in his joking tone.

Steve took his and tapped it lightly to Tony's before drinking deeply. The alcohol wouldn't affect him but the sugar would give him a boost of energy to keep him from falling asleep again before the food came.

"It'll be twenty minutes," Tony said, sipping his own glass. "Cards?"

Relieved that Tony hadn't immediately turned back to his work, Steve agreed overenthusiastically and dug a pack out of his bag. The twenty minutes passed quickly in several rounds of blackjack, all of which Tony won decidedly. Steve was good at cards, had been good at cards even before they'd augmented his memory, but Tony was untouchable. Steve would lose a hundred hands to get to play Tony, though. He swallowed back every wave of petals, not wanting to stop their game to clean them up.

The knock from room service surprised them both when it came. There was a table in the little attached den, but they sat on the bed instead, plates spread out between them, eating their sandwiches and sharing the fries. The food was tastier than Steve expected, and the calorie-laden dessert they'd offered was a rich flourless chocolate cake with plump, red raspberries on top. The kitchen had sent one piece, double size, for them to share, probably assuming some sort of romantic, chocolate-related interlude; the thought made Steve blush with every bite.

When the food was done, Tony slumped back against the headboard. "I should go to my room."

Steve resisted the urge to ask him to stay again. Tony had spent the money on another room. It would be silly to waste it just because Steve didn't want to be left alone to cough himself to sleep. Tony stacked the dishes in the kitchenette and packed up his bag. He said goodnight and went to the door.

Steve picked up his phone, but before he could even open it, Tony was back in the room. "What?" he asked.

Tony dumped his bags and tipped facedown on the bed. "The hallway is full of reporters here for the event. They've got a few rooms open, and they're having a party. If they catch me walking down the hallway with all my stuff, they're going to know something's up. Shit."

Steve was caught between anxiety and relief. Half of him wanted to curl up under the covers and hate for the nine millionth time that he'd made that stupid joke in the first place, and half of him wanted to say, "Let's watch a movie." It jumped out of his traitorous mouth as soon as he had the thought. "We'll kill some time and they'll go to bed eventually and then you can go."

Tony groaned into the duvet, but nodded. "Alright."

 _Or you could stay all night…_ Steve didn't add. Tony was determined to go, and if Steve didn't want to make him uncomfortable by pushing.

Knowing he was going to be out like a light as soon as Tony left for real, Steve brushed his teeth and changed into his pajamas then settled on the bed beside Tony to watch a movie. They found something action-y on pay-per-view that Steve had never seen, so Tony started it up, and they settled in. The movie was good, and Steve found himself mostly absorbed by it, thoughts only twitching towards Tony when he moved or nibbled at a bag of chips from the minibar.

By the time the movie ended, Steve was halfway off to sleep again, his normal bedtime long come and gone. Tony tiptoed to the door again, stuck his head out, and came back in, swearing profusely. "Still partying. At least they're not being too loud. Another movie?"

"Tony, I have got to go to sleep," Steve slurred. "Just stay here tonight. Please."

Tony wobbled were he stood, lips twisting. "Are you sure?"

Steve snuggled down under the covers and closed his eyes. "Yes."

Tony dropped his stuff in a pile and hummed, then he pulled sweatpants out of his bag and dropped his jeans. Steve buried his face in his pillow to stop himself from looking. He waited for the mattress to dip, but even after the rustle of Tony's clothes stopped, it didn't. He cracked an eye. Tony was standing next to the bed, fingers wound nervously together. "Tony?"

"I could sleep on the floor," Tony said hesitantly, looking furtively towards the door again.

"Don't be stupid." Steve shuffled even further towards his edge. "Tony, this bed is so big there isn't even enough floor left to sleep on. We'll practically be on separate continents."

"Umm, yeah, about that." Tony sat on the bed and swung his legs up under the covers, but he was still poised to run. "I have this thing where… where I move a lot in my sleep?"

"That's okay. I'm a deep sleeper."

"Um, not like that." He let out a tight breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, I'm a sleep cuddler, okay? No one will share with me because as soon as I'm out, I'm gravitating towards the nearest heat source. Like a fucking octopus. Rhodey kicked me out of his bed more than once in MIT, in fact I used to sleepwalk from the couch into his room just so I could lie on him. It's… it's embarrassing…"

Steve couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. "Sleep cuddler? Is that really a thing?"

Tony pouted adorably. "When they put me under to take out my wisdom teeth, I woke up holding the assistant's hand. It's inevitable. I can't help it."

Steve's smile bloomed even as the petals pressed against the back of his throat, burning his lungs. "Tony… I get cold at night," he said softly. "I really don't mind. You're my best friend. You won't believe what the Commandos did to stay warm some nights out there. It really doesn't bother me."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

Tony stared for a moment longer then snuggled down into the bed properly. He took an extra pillow and shoved it between them. The bed was so large, Steve couldn't imagine that a sleeping Tony would be able to break down the pillow wall and find his way all the way over to Steve. Surely, Tony was exaggerating.

Steve drifted off with his eyes fixed on Tony's sleeping face, all flickers and shadows in the soft light of the arc reactor.


	5. Chapter 5

Steve woke up feeling incredibly, undeniably safe. The pillow wall hadn't stood a chance. Tony was plastered to his side, his face buried in Steve's chest, cheek heavy on Steve's bicep. One of Tony's legs was bent at the knee and hooked over Steve's thigh. Steve could feel Tony's heartbeat, the steady in-and-out of his breathing, and nothing else in the world mattered. Steve sunk down in the hold, tugging Tony closer. It wasn't real, but he was still on the edge of his dreamscape so it felt alright, somehow.

Until a rush of painful need burned its way up his throat, and he couldn't hold back the coughing fit. He jerked up in bed, spewing petals across the comforter until its pristine white was stained orange. 

Tony yelped and jolted to the side, disentangling himself from Steve. Steve saw a hand twitch towards him out of the corner of his eye but then it pulled back, and Tony shifted away until he was perched on the edge of the massive bed. 

Steve got the coughing under control and slumped over, gasping for breath. He looked up and found Tony watching him cautiously, pain pinching the corners of his eyes. "Tony -"

"I'm sorry." Tony sounded almost as bad as Steve did. 

"It's not your fault," Steve rasped, even though it sort of was.

"Yes, it is."

Steve snapped his eyes back up to Tony's face with growing horror. Oh god, did Tony know? "What?"

"It's worse around me, when I'm close to you." Tony's body language clanged shut. "Come on, I'm not stupid. I've noticed. Whenever I touch you or stand too close you start coughing again."

Steve gaped stupidly at him, not knowing what to say. It was true; he couldn't deny it.

Tony seemed to take his silence for agreement. He gestured vaguely with one hand. "Yeah. Strange said it'd get worse the worse you feel about it. Being close to me obviously makes you feel worse. I shouldn't have stayed the night."

Steve flinched towards Tony. It was true, but surely Tony didn't know why? If he did, wouldn't he have said something? Unless this was why he'd been pulling away. "No. I -"

"Steve. Please don't make me talk about it, okay? We can still be friends, just - don't."

The back of Steve's eyes prickled. So that was it. Tony knew, and he wanted pretend it wasn't true. "Right," Steve managed to choke out around another mouthful of petals. "When did you figure it out?"

"Does it matter? I said we don't have to talk about it, okay? I'll leave." Tony moved to push off the bed, and Steve grabbed his wrist. 

"Stay. It's worth it."

Slowly, Tony shook his head. "Strange said it might be too much for the serum to handle, eventually. I can't be the cause of that, Steve, I'm sorry. I'll sleep in my own room tomorrow night, even if those damn reporters catch me." He ripped out of Steve's hold and disappeared into the bathroom. 

Tony barely looked at him as he packed up his things, and when he opened the door, the hallway was clear. Steve watched him slip out of the room and disappear towards his own. 

This was exactly what Steve had been trying to avoid. He hadn't even said anything, and his feelings had still pushed Tony away. 

**

They didn't see each other again until the president's lunch at noon. Tony knocked on his door  two minutes before Steve was going to go find him himself, and they went down to the lunch together. Tony slipped his hand in Steve's but didn't meet his eye when Steve shot him a concerned look. 

Despite the constant burn of need that filled Steve's chest, lunch was uneventful. They smiled and joked and told stories about their relationship that had become old hat after two months of press hounding. Steve had thought the lying would be harder than it was, but in the end, most of the stories were true, just told in a romantic light instead of a platonic one. 

But Steve could see all of Tony's sharp edges. He saw the tension and the discomfort and he hated it. He'd give anything to go back to the way they were before that stupid joke. He'd give up every kiss and every smile and every pet name - as much as he loved them all - because they weren't real and he wanted his real Tony back, even if it was just as a friend.

After lunch, Steve didn't wait to watch Tony avoid him; he slipped away and made for his hotel room on his own, without giving him the chance. He wanted to talk to someone, ask for advice, but Tony was the person he turned to with things like this, and Tony was the one making his head spin. Steve sat on the end of his bed, resisting the urge to bury his face in the pillow Tony had slept on the night before, knowing he'd cover it with flower petals in a few seconds.

He dug his phone out of his pocket and fiddled with it. When nearly ten minutes went by without him putting it away, he took it as a sign and scrolled through his contacts then hit call.

It was two and half rings before the phone clicked through. "Hello?"

"Hey, Nat."

"Everything okay?" she asked right away, concern twisting through her voice. 

"Oh yeah. Everything's fine. Sorry, I should have assumed a call would worry you."

"No, that's okay." Her voice softened. "You sound sad."

"I - uh yeah. Maybe I am." Steve spat and a single petal fluttered down into his hand. He rubbed his thumb over it until it split and stained his skin orange.

"What's wrong?"

"Uhh…" There was so much he didn't want to say, didn't know how to say. "I think - I think Tony's… mad? At me. For the joke."

"Really? He seemed to find it funny, honestly. He really took the fake dating to heart. He calls you his boyfriend more often than not."

"Not anymore," Steve grumbled before he could stop himself. He winced.

Natasha made a soft, curious noise but didn't say anything else.

"He just - It seems like he's pulling away from me. He won't talk to me anymore. He seems - he seems  _ sad."  _

"So do you," Nat pointed out.

Steve scrubbed a rough hand over his face. "God, I've really fucked things up for everyone."

"Maybe he's finding the lying harder than he thought." There was something lurking between Nat's words, but Steve didn't look at it too hard. "You find it hard too."

"I do." He sighed. "I feel horrible for putting him through this. He didn't seem to hold it against me before, and now he clearly does."

"I guess all you can do is apologize and hope he forgives you."

"I have. And I thought he did. I guess not."

Nat made a noise of sympathy. "Maybe it's not you. Maybe something else is bothering him and you're reading too much into it."

"Maybe…"

"I'm really sorry, Steve, but I have to go. Unless there was something -?"

"Oh no, no not at all. Go ahead. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You can call me anytime. Give my love to Tony. Can't wait to see you on TV." He could hear the humour in her voice.

"Har har. Thanks. Goodnight." Steve hung up and spun his phone around and around in his hand. Maybe there was something else. Or maybe Steve hadn't apologized for the right thing. Maybe Tony was mad because he'd figured out that he was the cause of Steve's hanahaki and Steve hadn't told him. 

Not that there was anything he could do about it now. Steve shook the feeling of helplessness off and undressed. He stepped in the shower and tried to wash off all the pain and confusion and stress. They needed to step up and be role models, put on this show - just like in the USO - for the good of other people, as much as it was tearing them down.

Clean and somewhat refreshed, Steve collapsed into bed and spent the few hours break before the cocktail party flipping around aimlessly on his TV and trying to pretend he wasn't curled up under the blankets on Tony's side of the bed for a reason.

Things didn't get any better at the party. 

Tony went in with him, but drifted away almost immediately, media smile on full blast. He started schmoozing in his next breath, snatching a glass of bubbly off a passing tray and leaving Steve to lean awkwardly against the bar and try not to be noticed. 

The party was mostly for the press, to get them rubbing arms with some of the celebrities involved before the awards ceremony. Steve shied away on impulse, deeply aware that it was talking to the press that had gotten him into this mess in the first place. 

But it wasn't long before a young man with short cropped blond hair and a press pass sidled up next to Steve. He offered his hand. "Mark. It's an honour to meet you, Cap," he said. There was a twinkle in his eye that Steve didn't like, but he didn't want to get into any more trouble so he shook the proffered hand.

"Steve, please. Nice to meet you, Mark. Hope you're having a good party."

"Oh, yeah, it's fine. Can I order you a refill?"

Steve looked at his empty glass. It was an open bar, but he understood to urge to be able to say he'd bought a drink for Captain America. Steve nodded with a gracious smile, and the man waved the bartender over and ordered refills for them both.

"Congratulations on the award tomorrow."

"Thank you."

Mark shifted a little closer, and dropped his chin so he was looking up through his lashes at Steve. Steve resisted the urge to lean back away from him. "It's really great that you came out. There's a level of support only household names like you can accomplish."

"Well," Steve said carefully, using a sip of his drink to mask his little shift away, "I have to give credit to Tony. My partner."

"Sure. I mean, Iron Man, that's cool. There isn't, you know, conflict? Working on the same team? Besides, isn't Stark known to be a bit of a…" Mark trailed off and turned to look behind him. Tony was framed perfectly in Steve's vision, hand rested on the man's shoulder to his right and leaning to admire the necklace that dipped deep into a woman's decolletage to his left. 

Steve swallowed back his frown. 

"He's much better at this media stuff than I am," Steve said carefully. Watching Tony flirt was like sandpaper on the back of Steve's throat, but they were supposed to be the perfect, happy couple, so he swallowed again and again until he could speak. "I'm better in the Cap suit than in this suit." He laughed lightly and plucked at his jacket.

Mark leered. "I think you suit that one pretty nicely, actually."

"Um. Thank you."

"So, you grew up in Brooklyn, huh? I'm from L.A."

"Oh?" Steve said carefully, shooting daggers over the guy's shoulder in Tony's direction, but Tony was still talking to the gathered group and hadn't noticed Steve's discomfort. Steve put on a vaguely interested face and tried not to cough petals all over the guy's shirt. He nodded as the man droned on about his childhood and then his lavish lifestyle, the painful itch in the back of Steve's throat growing more and more insistent. 

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He turned and coughed into his fist, twisting his shoulder around so the guys couldn't see as he filled his hand with an entire flower's worth of petals. A hand landed on his back. "Are you okay? That's a nasty cough you've got there."

Steve nodded with a smile and clenched the petals in his hand, twisting it behind his back as he turned back to the man. "Fine," he croaked. "Just all the talking, meeting people." He put careful emphasis on the latter, but the man didn't take the hint, nodding in sympathy and then diving straight back into his monologue about all the fish tanks he had at home. 

Steve looked around furtively and found a large decorative vase by the side of the bar with dried flowers sticking out of it. He backed along the bar slowly, trying to make the movement look natural. He reached out blindly with his hand when he reached the end of the bar, but he couldn't find the edge of the vase, and if he looked down it'd be too obvious.

Fingers closed around his wrist, and Steve startled back until he heard Tony say, "There you are, sweetheart, I was wondering what you'd got up to." The fingers tugged Steve's hand down into the vase and he opened his hand, dumping the petals inside. He straightened up and shot Tony what he hoped was a winning smile. Tony smiled back then turned to the other man, something tightening ever so slightly at the corner of his eyes. "Keeping him warm for me?"

The man flushed slightly and took half a step back. Tony's clear display of possessiveness was enough to set Steve off coughing again, and Tony planted both hands on his back and shoved. 

"I could use some air, couldn't you, pancake? Come on. Nice to meet you!" He all but manhandled Steve out the double doors onto one of the balconies. 

Steve stumbled forward and leaned over the railing, spitting petals onto the grass below. Tony's fingers brushed over his lower back for a moment then disappeared. Steve straightened up with a scowl. "Took you long enough." He scrubbed both hands over his face. His throat burned. "I'm literally here  _ because  _ I'm taken, and that guy still thought it was a good time to hit on me relentlessly, good lord."

Tony snorted. "Shameless."

"Thanks for the rescue."

"Anytime, boyfriend of mine." Tony's bright smile slipped a bit, and he took a few steps back. That morning in the hotel room seemed to have fully broken what was already cracked, and Steve ached, ached for things to go back to the way they were before The Joke, ached for the way Tony had curled into his arms last night, ached for all of it.

"I'm sorry," Steve said softly. "I'm sorry for dragging you into all of this. I know it makes you uncomfortable."

Tony rested his elbows on the railing, a good four feet still between them, and frowned out at the garden. "It's okay, really. It does make me uncomfortable, horribly uncomfortable, but I still think it's a good thing to do."

"I'll stay away from you as much as I can without ruining things," Steve said softly.

"What? No. I - Steve I don't mean  _ you  _ make me uncomfortable. I mean the whole -" he waved his hand "- gay thing…"

Steve gaped at him for a moment. "Tony… you're not - I mean you are -?"

"It's… complicated." Tony wouldn't meet his eye. 

"Are you straight?" Steve asked in hushed horror. What if he hadn't just forced Tony out, he'd forced him out of a closet he wasn't even in? "Oh my god."

Tony's lips pursed. "I dated a guy _ once," _ he admitted quietly. "When I was seventeen." Steve waited, heart pounding heavily in his chest, for Tony to go on. "A reporter caught us, but before the article was published, my dad found out. I watched him scream into the phone, throw money at it, until the story never saw the light of day." Tony's fingers tapped on the railing in time with the soft strain of music that leaked out from the party. He shrugged one shoulder. "Dad didn't even have to tell me it wasn't okay, that it wouldn't be tolerated. I never spoke to the guy again, never dated a guy again. Until now, I guess." 

Steve stood in stunned silence, completely at a loss for what to say.

"I've never stated my sexuality in public. Never put a label on it. I've brushed off every attempt to get me to say anything, always voiced support for the community, but from a careful distance. So much of my life is wide open to the public but I've always been relentlessly closed-lipped about this one thing."

"Until now," Steve echoed, taking an involuntary step backwards. God, how could Tony not hate him right now? The way Tony flirted, talked about men, Steve had been so sure, but he'd never even thought to ask. Everyone had assumed Steve was straight and was wrong, who the fuck did he think he was to assume Tony wasn't? "I'm so sorry, Tony. I didn't even think. I had no idea."

Tony looked up sharply, eyes searching Steve's face. "Because you couldn't have. Because I didn't tell you. This isn't your fault, Steve. I could have said no to doing this."

"But Colin said… he said if I tried to take the joke back, the press would go after you instead. There was no way out of this for you.  _ Shit." _ Steve dropped his face into his hands and scrubbed hard. No wonder Tony was angry with him.

Tony's fingers peeled Steve hands away. But he didn't look angry. He looked sad. "Steve… don't do that. Come on. I've been in the eye of the press since before I was born. If I'd wanted to stay out of it, I could have found a way. I'm a billionaire after all. I could always bribe them like my dad did." He winked, but Steve couldn't laugh.

"Tony…"

"I'm not telling you this because I want you to feel bad. I'm just explaining why I find this difficult. Why I feel like I don't deserve that award. I haven't been a good role model, not in the slightest. I've been hiding for years. It's not right. I'm not - I'm  _ not  _ straight. But I don't know how to say that tomorrow in front of thousands of people who look up to me."

They stood in silence for a long time, Steve at a complete loss for words. Finally, he couldn't hold the question burning in his mind any longer. "If it would have been so easy for you to get the press off your back, if you don't feel like you deserve the award, and you weren't ready to come out, why - Tony why did you agree to this?"

Tony lifted his chin and met Steve's gaze with bright, clear eyes. "Because I couldn't bear to see you go through this alone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> Thanks for reading! <3


	6. Chapter 6

Steve thought things might be a little easier after Tony's confession, that some of the tension between them would drain away, but when they re-entered the party, Tony drifted back to his crowd and left Steve by the bar once more. Luckily, Mark was occupied with someone else, and Steve was able to spend the next hour mostly on his own. 

When it felt late enough that he could leave, Steve crossed the room and sidled up behind Tony, giving his forearm a little squeeze. 

Tony cut himself off halfway through a sentence to turn and look up at Steve. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, and it was almost warm enough that Steve could believe it was real.

"Hey. I'm a wreck." Steve gave the group a self-deprecating smile. "Too much fun. I'm going to head up."

"Okay. See you later." Tony pressed a chaste kiss to Steve's cheek. As Steve stepped away, Tony's hand stretched out after him, stroking gentle fingers over the sleeve of Steve's suit, making him shudder.

The petals threatened the back of his throat again, so Steve turned and strode out of the ballroom as quickly as he could, not letting himself look back towards Tony. 

It was a long, cold night alone in his bed, turning Tony's words over and over in his mind. There was too much to process and it was like his brain was a stoppered up funnel, all his feelings, all of Tony's cold shoulders and quiet confessions piling on until nothing could move. And Tony, down the hall, so close, and yet, inescapably far away.

**

The next day was a blur of stylists and interviews and rehearsals. It was hours of being bustled around before Steve even saw Tony and hours more until they had a moment alone together. Finally, one of the many stagehands popped Steve into a green room and disappeared. It wasn't until Steve had taken a moment to catch his breath that he even realized he wasn't alone.

Tony was sitting on a stool by a bank of brightly lit mirrors, a sprawl of scribbled-on cue cards in front of him on the counter. He was frowning, a pen clutched in his grip.

"Hey," Steve said softly, shuffling closer. "You okay?"

Tony ran a hand through his hair, ruining the perfect swoosh it had been teased into by a young man with a comb. "Not really. I'm trying to write the acceptance speech."

"Tony… the show is in like two hours and you're just writing the speech now?" Steve gaped at him.

"You don't have to tell me how stupid that is, Steve." Tony curled in on himself. "I've been putting it off, I guess."

Steve thought back to Tony's words from last night. "You don't have to do it. I can do it."

"You did your bit at the press party. It's not fair to make you do both." Tony huffed and tossed his pen aside. "They want me to do it."

"I know. But they can't make you. I'll tell them I'm doing it, instead."

"No. I -" Tony nearly growled then he shuffled the cards up into a stack and started flipping through them. "Why can't I do this?" He pushed off his seat and started pacing around the room, flipping through faster and faster. "'Amazing mission…'" he read out, "'...stand behind them… honoured to accept...' It's all bullshit. Why can't I just say it? This is five minutes of me dicking around and saying nothing." He tossed the cards back on the counter. 

"Tony…" Steve stepped closer, reaching out to touch but stopping himself at the last minute. Once upon a time, Tony would have taken solace in him, let Steve reel him in for a hug, or drag him out for ice cream. Now, Tony was too far away to touch. It itched and burned under Steve's skin. He hadn't realized how much he lived for those little moments until they were gone.

"How was it so easy for you, huh?" Tony rounded on him. "You're from the fucking forties. How can you just -" He gestured wildly with his hands.

Steve shrugged. "I wasn't allowed to say it back then. I think it was just such a relief… I'm sorry."

"Oh god, don't be sorry for that. I'm - I should be sorry. I'm letting myself get all wound up about this." 

"It didn't seem to bother you as much when we were back home."

Tony paused in his pacing. "It didn't… that was easy. People have been assuming things about me my whole life. It's not real until  _ I  _ say it. And I can't make this speech and not say it,  _ I can't  _ that's not fair." He broke into a pained noise, and Steve's heart broke. "God, why can't I just do it. I should just go up there and be a fucking role model instead of a disaster for once -"

"Tony -"

"- I need to ball up and stop letting my dead father hold me back from doing what's right. It's so fucking  _ frustrating  _ to feel like there's this whole part of myself that no one knows about but -"

_ "Tony -"  _

"- I can't seem to change it. I could barely say it to  _ you,  _ christ. What a pathetic -"

Steve charged forward, cutting off Tony's rant with a kiss. He gathered Tony up in his arms, pouring in everything he hadn't been able to say over the last two months. Tony sunk into it with a soft, startled noise, his hands fisting in Steve's jacket. He brushed his tongue against the seam of Tony's lips, angling the kiss to push it deeper. 

Butterflies exploded in his stomach. This was perfect; this was everything he'd been wanting for so long. He ached with the relief of finally having Tony in his arms. But before he could ease Tony's lips apart and taste him, a tickle burned the back of his throat insistently and his breath caught painfully. 

In the next heartbeat, Tony was pulling away and then he was  _ pushing  _ away, both hands spreading flat across Steve's chest and shoving until they were a few feet apart. 

"I'm sorry," Steve rasped, a handful of petals spilling out onto the floor. He coughed, clearing his throat.

"You should be," Tony snapped back. "I really thought this was going to work." Tony rolled his eyes and sniffed loudly, half turning away.

Steve reached out for something to steady himself, reeling from the sudden turnabout, the unexpected rejection. It had seemed like -

"I thought maybe if we spent time together, like this, if you saw what it could be like, I thought, you know, maybe you'd see." Tony's eyes dropped to the floor. "How good we could be together…"

"Tony -"

Tony's eyes snapped back up, and they were cold and flashing with anger now. "No. I get that I'm here, and I'm convenient, and I'm in love with you so it's easy, but it's not easy for me." Tony pointed at the petals. "I won't play backup, alright Steve? I can't be with you knowing you love someone else. That's not me. I thought maybe I could - I don't even know - cure you? Like, maybe if you saw how awesome it would be to be with me, you'd - you'd - but it doesn't work like that, I get it. But don't give me the consolation prize and expect me to be happy, alright? I couldn't do it. I'd rather be alone than with you, knowing you'd rather be with someone else."

Tony turned on his heel and marched out.

Steve stood there gaping after him. For the first time in over three months, he could take a deep breath. His lungs expanded easily, drawing oxygen in full and deep and spinning his head after so long with nothing but short and shallow. He could breathe. The pain and pressure were gone, no needy tickle of petals. 

Only, now they'd been replaced by a new pain, a tight, aching knot in his throat. Tony thought Steve was in love with someone else, that he wanted Tony to play second fiddle while he coughed up flowers, pining for some mysterious other person.

Steve bent and gathered up a handful of the last petals he'd coughed up. It was over, he was cured. Tony had said he loved him back, but now he wanted nothing more to do with Steve.

Steve spun on his heel and charged after him. He had to tell Tony it was  _ him.  _ They were okay, everything was going to be okay, because he loved Tony, and  _ Tony loved him back.  _

But as soon as he pushed through the doors, Steve skidded to a halt. Tony was standing right outside the doorway, press smile pasted on, a microphone shoved in his face. Steve forced himself to smile too as attention turned to him as well. He hid the petals in his pocket, vibrating with the need to grab Tony and kiss him again and tell him it was okay,  _ it's you.  _

But he could hear the hum of a crowd now, as the auditorium filled with people. The show was starting soon. Steve reached out, trying to press his hand to Tony's back, communicate  _ something _ to him, but Tony flitted out of reach. "You'll have to ask him that," he said with a wink, redirecting a question towards Steve then slipping out of reach of the cameras. 

They rounded on Steve. He watched Tony dart through the press of people and slip out a side door into the back garden, half his mind trying to process the questions he was being asked, the other churning with thoughts of Tony. He nodded and smiled and dropped sound bites as long as he could stand it, then excused himself roughly, shoving away towards the spot where Tony had disappeared.

Steve pushed out the double doors and blinked into the late afternoon sun. It took him a moment to find Tony, but eventually he spotted a dark figure, hunched over a picnic table, no doubt getting tree sap all over his very expensive suit. Steve crossed the grass, trying to rehearse what he was going to say, but the only thing his brain seemed able to do was make the Assemble alarm noise as loudly as it could without a break.

Steve stopped next to Tony, took the handful of petals out of his pocket and held them out. He released them slowly, sprinkling them across Tony's lap. Tony sat back in surprise, watching his dark suit pants become dotted with orange. 

"What -?"

"They were for you, Tony. Every one was for you." Steve sat down on the bench of the picnic table, facing out and leaving a careful foot of space between them. 

Tony reached out and picked one up. "For me?" He finally met Steve's eye.

"Yeah. I've been in love with you for almost a year, but I guess, about three months ago, it became too much for my body to handle and I started coughing. Instead of telling you, I - well - I didn't… But now I can breathe again, because I know you feel the same way. Even if you never want to see me again." Steve wound his fingers together in front of him, elbows braced on his knees and hunched forward. That was a terrifying, heartbreaking prospect, but if Tony needed the space, he would give it to him. 

"You're cured?"

"Yes."

"I -" Tony looked back at the small pile of petals. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Steve took a steadying breath, fixing his eyes on a copse of trees across the lawn so he wouldn't have to look at Tony's no-doubt growing judgement. "It happened to me once before - not the hanahaki, the falling in love with my friend. I was just a kid, and I didn't get it. It seemed like a good thing to feel so strongly about my best bud. I told him I wanted to kiss him and he socked me in the jaw." Steve's fingers went to his jawline of their own accord. "Bucky found me bleeding and crying in the alley behind his house. We knew each other a bit, so he helped me up and took me home for my mom to clean me up. We were inseparable after that. So I suppose something good came of it. But that guy, my friend… he never spoke to me again. He hated me. I ruined everything. I -"

Steve turned to face Tony now, imploring him to understand. "Tony, I could never stand to lose you like that. I'd rather have not enough of you than nothing at all. God, the thought that I could - that I could make you hate me. I just… It terrifies me. I thought it would be better not to say anything, to keep you as a friend. Guess I screwed that up too."

Tony stared at him, wide-eyed, almost frightened looking. "God, Steve… do you really think I'd treat you like that? Even if I - I didn't… I'd never hate you for something like that. Never."

"I know it wouldn't be the same but… after you stayed the night in my room you said you'd figured it out and you didn't want to talk about it, that we could still be friends. I thought you knew."

Tony gaped at him. "No. No I didn't know." He shook his head. "I thought you knew how I felt about  _ you,  _ that your symptoms got worse around me because you knew I wanted you, while you wanted someone else."

"Tony… my symptoms got worse around you because you kept giving me these tastes of what I couldn't have." 

"Holy shit." Tony's eyes dropped down to his lap again and he lifted one of the petals and rubbed it between his fingers. "All this time…"

Steve opened his mouth to speak but his phone started ringing loudly. He pulled it out. 

"Where are you?!" the coordinator said, overly cheerfully. A thread of panic wound through her voice. 

"We're here," he assured her. "Tony and I just needed a minute."

"Welp, minute's up. We're starting in five, Captain. We need you  _ here.  _ Now."

"Yup. Okay, sorry." Steve hung up then looked over at Tony. He was staring at the lapful of petals with an unreadable expression on his face. "We have to go…"

"Right." Tony swallowed visibly. "Okay. Right."

"I'll do the speech," Steve said. "I'll wing it."

"No, no." Tony stood, releasing a cascade of petals from his lap, and set off for the building again, Steve jogging to keep up. "I'll just grab my cards. I'll meet you in the wings. I can do it."

"Tony -" But Tony was already pushing through the doors and disappearing through the crowd. Steve made his way to their entrance, heart heavy. Their award was near the beginning and then they'd be sitting out in the crowd so the camera could pan their faces, draw viewers with celebrity status. Steve fidgeted as the emcees warmed everything up, his eyes constantly searching the gang of stressed out stagehands for Tony's brown curls.

Someone bumped against his side as the award was being introduced, and Tony was suddenly there, a little out of breath. 

"What took you so long?" Steve hissed, just as they were shoved out on stage.

Tony, ever the quick thinker, grabbed Steve's hand and smiled, waving with the other. It took Steve a moment longer to realize they were currently on TV, then he got with the program and offered a wave of his own, hoping he didn't look as awkward as he felt. 

The presenters stepped away from the mic, clapping, and Tony took their place. He gave Steve's hand a firm squeeze before dropping it to tug his cue cards out of his jacket pocket. Steve wanted to grab him and drag him off stage, stop him from doing something he knew he'd hate himself for forever, but there was nothing he could do. Tony cleared his throat and looked down at the cards.

"Uh." He looked up at the crowd, then his eyes cut over to Steve, and for the first time since they'd left New York, he really looked at him. Tony was beautiful, the bright lights blocking out everything but him as he stared at Steve. Then he cleared his throat again, set his cue cards down firmly on the podium and leaned in to the mic.

"The truth is… I'm bisexual," Tony said to the crowd. "I've never said that in front of anyone before." He took a steadying breath, and Steve's hand twitched to reach out for him. "I know it seems obvious, I'm publically dating a man after all, but I've still managed to go this long without saying it. It's harder than it should be, even knowing that everyone already knows. But it's worth it. It's worth it to show that you can be queer and still be a superhero. It's worth it to show the world that I'm not going to stand back and cover up and pretend - I'm going to fight for what's right.

"And it's worth it to show the man that I love that I'd never want to hide what he is to me. That what we have is worth sharing, is worth celebrating." Tony turned to Steve, wide brown eyes shaking with emotion as they met Steve's. "I hope, someday, I can be half as brave and incredible and amazing as he is, but for now - for now I'll settle for getting to be here beside him, in front of the whole world, and not have to pretend we're something we're not." He turned back to the crowd. "I'm honoured to receive this award - I truly am - and I'll do my best to live up to what it means, but it can't even touch how honoured I feel to get to stand here and look out at all of you and say - that's him -" he pointed to Steve "- that's the one I love. And I'm proud to say it."

Tony stepped back with an quiet sniff and reached out to shake hands with the organization's president on his other side. The crowd erupted with applause, and all Steve could do was stare, hopeless, at the way the lights made Tony's eyes sparkle, creasing in the corners with the genuine grin he couldn't seem to get under control. Steve's eyes stung, and he felt like there was something he was supposed to do, supposed to say. But then a plaque was being pressed into his hand and he was being pushed into place, urged to smile out at the photographers. His head spun, until Tony's fingers found his wrist and settled there, grounding him, holding on. 

It was all a blur until suddenly he found himself off stage again, out of the blinding heat of the lights, into the cool, dark quiet of backstage. A hand found his.

"I meant it, you know." 

Steve turned to find Tony holding on to him for dear life, gazing up at him with such lost, hopeful wonder, that Steve found he couldn't breathe all over again. "I know." He squeezed Tony's fingers between his. "I'm so proud of you. That was amazing." Steve looked down at the plaque he was carrying, rubbing his fingers over their names, etched in the metal plate. He found Tony's gaze again, swallowed back the lump that was forming in his throat. "I love you," he managed.

Tony all but tumbled into his arms, face burrowing into Steve's neck. "God, I've missed you," he whispered against Steve's jaw. "I love you, too."

They held each close for a moment, no breath of space between their bodies as they clutched each other and revelled in that closeness and what it meant. 

When Tony finally pulled away, and Steve reluctantly let him go, Tony tapped a finger on the plaque. "This is real, right? We're really doing this?"

"If you'll have me."

Tony reached into his pocket and came out with one of the orange petals Steve had give to him. He pressed it against the wood of the plaque, rubbing until it stuck on, right underneath their names. "Of course I'll have you." He looked up at Steve, glowing, and grinned. "Just try getting rid of me now, Rogers."

Steve wrapped his arms tighter around Tony's waist and hauled him in, grinning too now. "Who knew, all I had to do was get you flowers?"

Tony laughed, and a harried-looking young woman with a headset screeched to a halt. "What are you still doing here? Get out there!" She shoved them down the side aisle, and they stumbled to their seats, giggling.

Steve settled in beside Tony, their hands wound together. The show was another hour, and Steve knew the camera would be on them a lot. He should clap, he should smile, he should, in turn, look interested and amused and concerned, but he couldn't do that. He knew without a doubt, that every time the camera cut to him he'd be staring at Tony.

And all he'd look was deeply, deeply in love.


End file.
